


The Trump Regime

by majorhtom



Series: Trumpstopia [1]
Category: Fake News RPF, Late Night Host RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real News RPF, Saturday Night Live
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Blood and Gore, Brexit, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Jewish Character, Cold War, Cold War II, College AU, Facts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jewish Character, Major Character Injury, Mentions of Brexit, Rating May Change, Recreational Drug Use, Resistance, Trans Character, Violence, dystopia au, everything awful, friends - Freeform, illegal stuff, injury detail, ish, oh god somebody do something
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-19 10:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorhtom/pseuds/majorhtom
Summary: Jon Stewart and his best friend, Stephen Colbert, are hard at work resisting Donald Trump’s dictatorial regime. But they aren’t alone.Seth Meyers is in love with his well meaning, but drug addicted roommate Stefon, and is totally oblivious to it.Jimmy Fallon is unsure of his place in the world, while Jimmy Kimmel is seeking redemption.John Oliver managed to escape a bad situation, but out of the frying pan and into the fire.Sam Bee will spread her feminist messages to anyone, while trying her best to battle injustices.Conan O’Brien is trying not to make a mess of his life, while he’s sure he’s doing the right thing.Shep Smith is trying his best to survive after being locked up in the Guantanamo Bay Prison Camp.And Trevor Noah, Jason Jones, Andy Richter, Amy Poehler, Jessica Williams all try and do their parts too.After all, this is all part of the daily life in the Trump Regime.





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Some major news today, that our Glorious President, Donald Trump, has executed the troublemaker known as Bill Maher. Other troublemakers such as David Letterman, Carson Daly, Neil deGrasse Tyson and Anderson Cooper remain in detention at Guantanamo Bay._ ”

“Well, that’s shit.” Jon Stewart said. 

“Tell me about it.” Stephen Colbert muttered. “I think we’ve officially become _worse_ than North Korea.” 

The two were sitting in their college dorm room, watching the TV, where Steve Doocy from Fox and Friends was talking. They could not turn the TV off if they wanted to as the TVs would come on automatically whenever Donald Trump had something big and important to say. This was one of those times. 

“Glorious President. Forced to watch state run media, which is all day Fox and Friends. Dissidents sent to a concentration camp. God, it’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Jon said sarcastically.

“And look at Steve Doocy-he looks scared too.” Stephen pointed out. 

Jon shook his head. “Everyone’s scared to speak out, Stephen. You speak out, that’s a one way ticket to Gitmo.” 

“Yeah, but _Doocy_?” Stephen shrugged. “I thought he was a Trump shill.” 

“Nobody likes a dictatorship, Steve Doocy included, I guess.” Jon said. 

“Oh dear Lord, they’re showing the execution.” Stephen took his glasses off and covered his eyes. 

Jon grimaced and screwed his eyes shut. 

Though neither of them could see what was happening on the screen, they could hear it. The back and forth between the guard and Maher until the gunshot rang out. 

Jon flinched and then shook his head. “No. No, you know what? Fuck this noise. Fuck it all.” He opened his eyes. “Someone should be out there speaking out against him-Trump can’t be allowed to get away with this! First... Jeez. I don’t even know how it started any more. I was too young, I think.” 

“I think it started with him winning the 2016 election.” Stephen said. 

“Nah, it was going on before that.” Jon said. 

“How the hell did society make so much progress and then lost it all and then some?” Stephen asked. “It’s like taking five steps forward and ten steps back.”

“And nobody seems to care.” Jon said. 

“ _I_ care.” Stephen pointed out. “And I know _you_ care.”

“But does anyone _else_ care?” Jon asked. 

“I know Shep cares, he-"

“Shep’s in Gitmo.” Jon said, a twinge of sadness in his voice. “Probably being tortured. They took him just last week.”

“Holy shit.” Stephen blinked. He didn't know how else to react to the capture of his friend. “What the _fuck_ have we become?”

“I don’t know,” Jon began, “but I think I’d favour the nuclear war everyone said would happen but didn’t. _Nothing_ could be any _worse_ than this.”

Stephen snorted. “Nuclear war would actually be an _improvement_.”

“I’ll round up the guys. Someone’s gotta agree with me and speak out.” Jon said. “We owe it to David Letterman. To Neil deGrasse Tyson. To Anderson Cooper. To Shepard Smith. We owe it to them to speak out about the Trump Regime’s horrors.”

“How would we do that without being sent to Gitmo ourselves?” Stephen asked. 

“There has to be a way.” Jon said. “Even in North Korea there are ways.”

“Jon...” Stephen said. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I have an idea.” Jon answered. “You’re my best friend, Stephen, so you kind of have to say yes...”

* * *

“So why do you want _me_ to do this?” Jimmy Kimmel asked. He and Jon were sitting in the booth that was the furthest away from the bar in the student bar. Jimmy was nursing a Diet Coke. And they were both talking in low voices to try not to get caught. “I mean, I’m _definitely_ in, but why me and not the other guys?”

“Well, it’s an _insanely_ dangerous thing I’m asking you to do here.” Jon said, still stirring his own Diet Coke with a straw. “And Stephen’s already in.”

“Have you talked to anyone else about it?”

“Just you and Stephen.” Jon admitted. “But I’m gonna talk to Conan O’Brien, Seth Meyers and Jimmy Fallon.” He listed on his fingers.

“Fallon’s gonna say no.” Jimmy said. He took another small sip from his drink.

“Can’t hurt to ask him anyway.” Jon said. “He’s a natural impressionist. His skills could come in handy for what I’m after.” 

“Why can’t I do impressions?” Jimmy asked. “You know who can do impressions? Alec Baldwin. He did a killer Donald Trump back when he was on Saturday Night Live.”

“And now he’s in Guantanamo.” Jon said.

“Yeah. True.” Jimmy nodded. “What about Bill Hader?”

Jon simply looked at Jimmy like he’d sprouted an extra ear, and shook his head. 

“Ah yes. I... remember now.” Jimmy sighed. “He was publicly executed at the Lone Star Camp in Texas last year.”

“Look, Kimmel, I know you said you were in-“

“I’m _still_ in, Stewart.”

“Let me finish.” Jon said. “You said you were in. But... what I’m asking of you... you could be sent to one of these concentration camps too.”

“Are you allowed to say that?” Jimmy asked. “Being Jewish and all.”

“Well, I’m just describing it as I see it.” Jon said. “Persecuted minorities or political dissidents sent to a small area or prison with inadequate facilities, forced to do hard labour to pass the time while they await execution.” 

“ _That’s_ what a concentration camp is?” Jimmy frowned. 

“Dude. Come on.” Jon said. “Not every concentration camp has to be Auschwitz or Dachau.”

“I’ll be honest, that sounds suspiciously like what Trump’s done with Muslims and anyone who speaks out against him.” Jimmy admitted. “I always thought they were gulags. Maybe it was because of his association with Putin.”

“Gulags weren’t death camps.” Jon said stoically. “They were just for hard labour-not that they cared about human life there, so, of course, millions still died. However, Trump’s camps _are_ death camps. People there get executed en masse. If a person is famous enough, the execution is televised. Like with Bill Maher earlier. I don't know, but that sounds pretty concentration camp-y to me. And it disturbs me that they’re just called ‘Prison Camps’.”

“Guantanamo Bay and Lone Star are the most notorious.” Jimmy said. “For executions.”

“And you’re going to risk being imprisoned?” Jon asked. “Or executed?”

“Jon. I trust you, man.” Jimmy said. “But good luck convincing anyone else. Especially the other Jimmy.” 

“I _can’t_ promise you safety, Jimmy.”

Jimmy nodded. “I know. I don’t care. I want to stick it to Donald Trump, that piece of shit.”

“Then I guess, I’m glad you’re with me, Jimmy.” Jon said.

* * *

“Give me _one_ good reason why I should do this.” Conan O’Brien said. 

Conan and Jon were walking across the campus to their dorm building, from the library-that was where Jon had found Conan. Not that the library contained anything substantial any more, since Trump replaced the books with books of his choosing and/or writing. And it definitely _didn't_ contain Fire and Fury... 

“Trump sucks.” Jon shrugged. 

Conan nodded in agreement. “Yes, he does indeed suck.” He scratched his eyebrow.

“And-and his entire Regime sucks.” Jon said. 

“Well... that’s not a-that’s the same reason, Stewart.” 

Jon glanced askance. “Well... Conan, there’s no reason to call me Stewart, I mean, we’re friends.”

“Friends don’t try to get friends murdered and-or imprisoned.” Conan said.

“Hey!” Jon pointed at Conan. “No, I never said that you _would_ be killed or imprisoned, only that there was a chance.”

“A chance is enough for me to want to say no.” Conan said. “I don’t want to get stabbed or shot or-“

“That won’t happen.” Jon said, stopping just outside their building. “Probably.”

Conan stood by Jon. “I don’t want to be murdered, Jon.” He said. 

Jon opened his mouth to say something.

“Or thrown in a gulag.” Conan added.

“Concentration camp.” Jon corrected.

“But you’re Jewish.” Conan pointed out.

“Not by faith.” Jon said. “Besides, who better knows concentration camps than Jewish people.”

Conan frowned. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this.” 

"The concentration camp thing, or me being Jewish?" Jon asked.

"The general situation-what you're asking me to do, Jon." Conan answered.

“Will you, uh... tell anyone about this?” Jon asked. 

“Like Andy?” Conan asked. 

“Can we _trust_ Andy?” As soon as those words left his lips, Jon knew he’d said something wrong. “Shit, no, I-I didn’t mean it that way, Conan, I-“

“I know how you meant it, Jon.” Conan said.

“I don’t think he colludes with Trump, I just mean-“

“Relax, Jon.” Conan sighed. 

“You’ll do it?” Jon asked. 

“I never said I would.” Conan said. “I mean... I need some time to think. It’s,” he shrugged, “a _lot_ you’re asking of me. I know that I’d be doing a good thing, but honestly, I’m pretty scared to go it alone.”

“Is that why you asked to talk to Andy?” Jon asked. 

“Being honest, yeah.” Conan nodded. “It was.” 

“You wouldn’t be alone anyway.” Jon said. “Stephen said yes and Jimmy said yes-“

“I’m guessing Kimmel, not Fallon.” 

“Bingo.” Jon chuckled. He straightened himself up and turned serious. “Conan. You’re one of only a few people I _can_ actually trust. Please say yes.”

Conan took a deep breath. “I’ll think about it.” He said. “But I’m leaning on the ‘yes’ side of the fence.”

* * *

“Are you in, or out?” Jon asked.

Jon was sitting next to Jimmy Fallon in Trump Business Studies, a now-mandatory module for anyone studying in university. Not that anyone actually wanted to study it, but that was the meaning of 'mandatory'. They were practically whispering to one another.

“I don’t know.” Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to get in trouble. And by that, I mean I don’t want to be sent to Gitmo or one of the other camps.”

“Look, Jimmy, you hate this... _dictatorship_ ,” Jon spat out, “as much as I do. I know you’ve been neutral up to now.”

“I don’t like confrontation.”

“But neutrality is what got us into this mess.” Jon paused. “Not Net Neutrality. That was good. Wish Ajit Pai hasn’t got rid of that all them years back.”

“Jon, it was only five years ago.” Jimmy pointed out. 

“Five years is still years, Jimmy. It’s half a decade.” Jon said. 

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d remember that.”

“We're both twenty-one, Jimmy. And we would have been sixteen when Net Neutrality was repealed. We’re both Gen-Z, we grew up on the internet. If I remember it, then you should remember it too.”

“I _do_ remember it, actually.” Jimmy said. “I was just too young to remember what it meant.” 

“You can’t stay neutral anymore, Fallon.” Jon’s tone turned colder. “For the love of god, pick a damn side. It isn’t that hard.” 

“Which side do you want me to pick?”

“Well, you don’t like the Trump Regime, so how about, oh, I don’t know... _my side_?” Jon suggested.

“You’re after something, aren’t you?” Jimmy asked. 

“Well, you know the Avengers?” Jon asked. 

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah I remember. Before Trump banned them.”

“Well, your neutrality isn’t helping anyone except Trump.” Jon began. 

“I don’t want to be helping him.” Jimmy said. “But it’s just... so _serious_.”

“I know.” Jon said. “I know it is. That’s why I want you to join me. I have an idea and I want you to be a part of it.”

* * *

“Seth Meyers.” Stefon looked up from his book to his roommate coming into their dorm room. “You look tense.”

“Yeah? Well I’ve been asked to do something _completely_ reckless, _extremely_ dangerous and _beyond_ stupid.” Seth said. “Only I can’t do it alone.”

“Tell me who’s offered you ecstasy, Seth Meyers. No, let me guess, it was Gayoncé.” On seeing Seth’s blank face, Stefon continued. “Gayoncé runs New York’s hottest cl-“

“I’m gonna have to stop you there, Stefon.” Seth said. “I’m _really_ not in the mood to hear about your bizarre clubs today.”

“Did Gay Liotta ask you to do heroin?”

“You know what- _wait_? No?” Seth frowned and looked over at his roommate. “Stefon, do you take _heroin_?” 

“Once or twice.” Stefon shrugged. 

“That’s... _really_ dangerous.” Seth said. 

“I know.” Stefon said. “That’s why I asked, Seth Meyers. For what it’s worth, I would absolutely do heroin with you, Seth Meyers.”

Seth stared blankly ahead at the TV, which was blank, so Trump hadn't made any proclamations yet that day. “Um. Yeah. Thanks. But I’m not doing heroin, Stefon. Or ecstasy or any other illegal drug.”

“You can have just as good a time on prescription drugs, Seth Meyers. Like Adderall, Valium, Codeine-“

“I also don’t want to hear about the drugs you take.” Seth snapped. 

“Ooh. Someone’s bitchy today.” 

Seth sat down on the bed, next to Stefon and put his head in his hands. 

Stefon sat up on the side of the bed and patted Seth on the back. “There, there, Seth Meyers.”

“What... what are you doing?” Seth asked. He lifted his head. “Stefon, I’m not upset. I’m...” He sighed. “I don’t know what I feel. Conflicted, I guess.”

“Mmm. Tell Stefon what’s up.”

“I already _tried_.” Seth said, by now used to his roommate’s strange speaking patterns. After all, Stefon did take a lot of drugs, as Seth was now finding out. He thought he knew Stefon-what _else_ didn't he know? “You just... talked over me.”

“I’m sorry.” Stefon said, honestly.

Seth nodded, accepting the apology. “Yeah.”

“Would you like some of my cocaine?” Stefon offered. 

“... No thank you, Stefon.” Seth said. 

“I also have crack, smack, acid, meth, crystal, ket, pot, shrooms, angel dust, molly, poppers, meow meow, speed, brownies, hash, bath salts, or if you wanted to huff some glue...”

Seth frowned and his mouth went into an ‘o’ shape. “I have only one question-where the _hell_ did you get the money for all those drugs?”

“Oh honey, those are just my _illicit_ drugs. I have _prescription_ drugs too. Oxy, Vicodin, Add-“

“ _No more_!” Seth snapped. “I’m not going to do drugs with you, Stefon! I’m not going to go to... fucking Twice or Slice or Booooooooof with seven o’s-“

“It’s actually got _nine_ o’s-“

“Or that club that’s name is just a hissing cat-“

“Oh that’s one of my favourite clubs.” Stefon said. “It has everything-“

“Stefon!” Steph hissed through gritted teeth. “There is a a racist, sexist, anti-Semitic, xenophobic, homophobic, transphobic fascist in charge of our new totalitarian dictatorship government where anyone who dares speak out against it gets sent to concentration camps!”

Stefon shrugged. “Which concerns me _why_?” 

“You’re _Jewish_!” Seth blurted out.

“Non-practicing.” Stefon said. “Else I wouldn’t have all them drugs.” He paused. “Or that tattoo...”

“You still don’t want to be sent to Guantanamo Bay.” Seth argued.

“No. True.” Stefon agreed. 

“And you're gay! _And_ if you get sent to Gitmo, then you can guarantee there’s gonna be no more,” Seth looked around the room and frowned, “... Kevin?”

“Yes. That, Seth Meyers, would be a _tragedy_.” Stefon agreed. 

“You know my friend Jon?” Seth asked. 

“Jon. Jon. Jon.” Stefon repeated. 

“Stewart.” Seth said. Seeing Stefon’s blank expression, he sighed. “Leibowitz.” 

“Oh!” Stefon nodded. “Yesyesyes. The... prematurely greying, soccer playing Jewish comedian.” 

“That... would be the guy.” Seth said. 

“So what about Jon Stewart?” Stefon asked.

“He’s asked me to do something for him.” Seth said. 

“And are you going to do it?” 

“I don’t know.” Seth inhaled sharply. “I suppose. But I’d need some help.”

“What are you _implying_ , Seth Meyers?” Stefon asked. 

“That we need to talk to Amy.” Seth said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This idea came to me while we were doing tech runs on High School Musical. Whenever I wasn’t on stage, I would be shaping this world. Almost had my iPad taken from me more times than I can count.  
> So anyway, this world isn’t that far off our own. If we don’t have a nuclear war, I can’t help but feel that this is what we’re heading towards.  
> The main characters are all either twenty-one or twenty. Even Shepard Smith here. They’re all supposed to be back at college.  
> Stefon and Bill Hader exist as separate entities; rather than Stefon being a character that Bill Hader plays, he is a real person. This is why Bill Hader is dead and Stefon is around. Sorry to kill Bill though. I like him too.  
> Yeah, they’re all late night hosts except Stefon and Amy Poehler. Why’s that then? I guess you’ll have to see. But I can answer, yes, there will be some Sethon. And yes, it will be angsty.  
> Why is it these particular guys-Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon, Conan O’Brown and Seth Meyers? Because it is.  
> More characters will come; John Oliver, Amy Poehler, Samantha Bee, Jason Jones, Trevor Noah and Andy Richter. They’ll pretty much be fictionalised versions of themselves, since they’re all Generation Z. Why are there not more girls? There will be more girls in supporting roles later on, don’t worry.


	2. Chapter 2

“Jon, I heard what you’re doing.” John Oliver said. He was in the common room, secretly reading a copy of Fire and Fury that he had smuggled from the UK when he went to study in the US. It was dressed in a cover of one of Trump’s books, just in case anyone suspected anything.

“Really?” Jon asked. “Because I’m not doing anything, I mean, I’m reading this book,” he flipped the book him his hands to read the cover, “Time to Get Tough-“

“We both know that’s not what you’re _really_ reading.” John said.

“Yes. It is and I... can... prove it.” Jon nodded slowly. 

John hummed. “You’re reading what I’m reading-“

“Well, _you’re_ reading How to Get Rich-“

‘Fire and Fury’, John mouthed.

“No way.” Jon muttered under his breath. “I... haven’t seen a copy since I was eighteen years old-can I have a look?”

“You can...” John said. 

“I sense a ‘but’ coming-“

“But I want in.” 

“Deal. Now let me see... Uh, How to Get Rich.” Jon said. 

John dog eared his page, closed the book and handed it over to Jon Stewart, who carefully took it from John’s hands.

“Holy shit. John. Where did you _get_ this from?”

“I smuggled it in two years ago.” John said, as quietly as he could. “When I first got here.”

“I can’t believe it.” 

“Believe it. I have a lot more where that came from.” John said.

“How many books do you have?” Jon asked, in a normal volume. After all, they could have been talking about Donald Trump books, rather than anti-Donald Trump books. 

“Six.” John said.

Jon blinked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I... wasn’t sure how.” John answered. In other words, John didn’t know if he could trust Jon.

That was, disturbingly, a thing. Since the slow rise of fascism, nobody knew who they could trust. Nobody knew if their neighbour, friend, or even a family member would have them packed up and sent to a death camp. Trust was _absolutely_ an issue. John’s parents hadn’t wanted him to go to America, but he felt he had to go anyway because as bad as things were in America, things were even _worse_ in Britain. 

After the Brexit vote had divided the four nations right down the middle (thanks for reporting on that, BBC!), Theresa May became Prime Minister because David Cameron resigned. Not a year later, she u-turned on her promise not to call for a snap election... by calling for a snap election. She invoked Article 50, the part of the EU treaty that would allow for Brexit. She hoped that the election would strengthen her hand going into Brexit... And then she lost the election in an amazing fashion. Desperate to cling onto power, she did an unofficial coalition with the DUP, an amazingly terrorist political party who hate pretty much everything from homosexuality to line dancing. Basically she gave them money and they gave her votes. Except, the money never came. 

The Brexit deadline, however, did. And the entire country fell off the cliff, crashed and burned in the most spectacular way, all because of a few racists who promised some things and then backed out. What did it mean that the country ‘fell off the cliff’? Well, it did a great job of destabilising the entire economy of the country, plunging Britain, and the world, into a new recession. Donald Trump only took advantage of that. Because the British economy was destabilised, it drove the pound through the roof, causing a nasty case of inflation. Companies went bust, unable to afford the cost. And people lost their jobs. Their homes. Their livelihoods. It was a real case of ‘brother, can you spare a dime?’, only because inflation was so bad, it was closer to ‘brother, can you spare a tenner?’. 

John couldn’t stay there. He knew that. So he packed his bags and went to study in America, where, yes, it was bad, but at least half a loaf of bread didn’t cost a hundred pounds. Or dollars. Besides, since the Great Recession happened when he was five and Brexit happened when he was thirteen, John was used to not trusting people. 

“Yeah, well. You should have known.” Jon mumbled. “I’m always talking about it some way or other. Usually badmouthing. And anyway, how was I supposed to know-you’re British.”

“Believe me, it’s worse at home than it is here.” John said.

Jon looked up from the book. “I’ll believe _that_ when I see it.” He looked back down at the book. “Alright. You’re in.” He whispered. “What’s your idea?”

* * *

“Whoa now.” Amy chuckled awkwardly. While Seth and Stefon were sitting on Stefon’s bed, Amy was sitting opposite them, on Seth’s bed. “That is... Why would Jon Stewart ask you to do that?”

Seth shrugged. “I have no idea, Amy.” A lie. He did know. He had been told. 

“Are you going to do it?” Amy asked.

“Do you think I _should_?” Seth asked. 

“It’s a crazy idea.” Amy considered. “But you’d be crazier _not_ to do it. Seth, buddy, you-you gotta do it. And I’ll back you up all the way. As I’m sure Stefon would-“

“Back off! You don’t even know him like I do!” Stefon snapped. 

“Stefon. We’ve talked about this.” Seth hissed. “He’s... taking way too many drugs.”

“Why, what _is_ he taking?” Amy asked.

“Everything.” Seth said, almost emotionlessly.

“How can he be taking-“

“Trust me, he is.”

“Where is he getting the money-“

“I asked him and I still don’t know.”

“He’s got problems.” Amy said.

“I know. But he’s my roommate. I _can’t_ give up on him.” Seth said.

“And I’m not gonna give up on you either, Seth Meyers.” Stefon put his hand on Seth’s. 

Seth pulled his hand away. “I’ll be honest, Amy, it’s... getting _weird_. And he told me he does heroin with Gay Liotta, whoever that is.”

Amy smiled and nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s at Slice-“

“How do you know this shit, Amy?” Seth asked.

“I’ve been there.” Amy answered. 

“Yes, his club has _everything_ ,” Stefon began, as Seth put his head in his hands, “twinks, gypsies, grown men in wedding dresses, a cat from a bodega, puppets in disguise.”

“Do I _really_ want to know what that is?” Seth asked.

“Well, it’s just that thing when Alf wore a trench coat, so he could go out into public.”

Amy snorted. When she got a glare from Seth, she put her hand over her mouth and pretended she was coughing. 

“Amy, this is serious. Stefon is on heroin.” 

“Why would you care if you weren’t in love with him anyway, Seth?”

“He’s my roommate-I am _not_ in love with Stefon Zolesky!” Seth snapped. 

“Oh come on, Meyers, I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“I have a _girlfriend_.” Seth said.

“Yeah, I know you do.” Amy said. “But you don’t trust her, do you?”

“Doesn’t matter anyway. Being gay is illegal.” Stefon said. 

“It wouldn’t stop you, you drug binging, party monster.” Seth muttered.

“Seriously. Seth, seriously. The sooner you acknowledge your feelings for Stefon, the better off we’ll all be.” Amy said. “Especially you and Alexi.” 

“I-I’m _not_ in love with Stefon.” Seth insisted.

“Oh, Seth.” Amy leaned forward and squeezed Seth’s shoulder. “Poor, _poor_ , Seth.” She shook her head slowly. “You couldn’t be more _wrong_. And I’m gonna prove it to you.”

* * *

Samantha Bee saw Jon leave the coffee shop and she ran over to him. “Jon!” She shouted.  
Jon turned around. “Sam? Where-what happened-“

Sam cut Jon off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Jason’s fine.” She said. “But Jimmy-“

“Which-“

“Kimmel.”

Jon nodded in satisfaction.

“He told me you were doing-um- _something_.” Sam said. “I’m not the only one who’s going to talk to you about this.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked.

“Jason and Trevor want in too.” Sam replied. 

“Do you even know what I’m doing?” Jon asked.

“Pirate radio to bring people the facts and to mobilise the resistance against the Trump Regime, while also mocking the Regime.” Sam whispered. 

“Um... yes.” Jon said. “That is-that is _exactly_ correct.” He nodded. “Yes.”

“We want in.” Sam repeated. 

“What can you offer?” Jon asked.

“Well, Jon, Jason, Trevor and I are foreigners, so we can offer an outside perspective.” Sam suggested. 

“John’s already in and he’s British.” Jon said.

“Trevor’s also Black and he’s from Shitholica.” Sam said. “Formerly known as Africa.”

“Yes, That is true.” Jon nodded. “Okay, I’ll ask him. What can _you_ offer?”

“... You _are_ shitting me right now, right?” Sam asked. “According to Jimmy, you haven’t got a _female_ perspective. I mean, you have a Jewish perspective, a gay perspective and a trans perspective, but you haven’t got a black perspective _or_ a female perspective.”

“No, you know, that’s true.” Jon said. “You’re in. So what can _Jason_ offer?”

“That he’s Canadian.” Sam shrugged. “He can also act, if that helps?”

“I’ll consider him. But you and Trevor are _absolutely_ in.” Jon nodded. 

“Especially if Jimmy Fallon says no.” Sam added.

“Yeah, he’s not going to say no.” Jon said. “Conan actually seemed more likely to say no.”

“ _Conan_?” Sam scoffed. “Yeah, he’s gonna say ‘yes’ as long as Andy can do it with him. Andy’s like his sidekick or something. They do practically _everything_ together.”

“That... is _true_.” Jon agreed.

“Conan will say yes.” Sam nodded. “He will.”

“I hope so. He has a lot to offer.”

“By being taller than you and whiter than you and more Irish than any of us?” Sam asked.

“He can sneak in and out of the country.” Jon said.

“Wait, _seriously_?” Sam chuckled. “Wonder if he can get me back to Canada?”

“Sam.” Jon said. “He’s one of my closest friends. I can trust him. I _know_ I can.”

“Why Jimmy Fallon then?”

Jon shrugged. “Oh he just does some killer impressions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> Time to Get Tough and How to Get Rich are actual books Donald Trump wrote. Or had ghostwritten if his tweets truly show how absolutely batshit crazy he is. I googled them. I don’t own them. I do, however, own Fire and Fury.  
> So all that about Brexit is true! I mean, up to the part about the cliff edge, that’s just a prediction. But it was all caused by some racists. So if we do go off the cliff edge and the British economy destabilises, it wold destabilise the world economy and plunge it into another recession, so I’m preemptively apologising. I voted Remain.  
> With regards to the BBC thing, they’re supposed to be unbiased, but they aren’t reporting that the country is divided right down the middle thanks to Brexit. Families aren’t talking to each otherover this. And they’re just reporting like Brexit is a cut and done thing-no, more people than not want, but sadly aren’t going to get! A second referendum, despite all the lies and interference during the first one.  
> To those of you who’ve done the maths regarding John Oliver’s age, I hope it’s right because it’s supposed to be set in 2023.  
> Contrary to what he says, Seth actually is in love with Stefon. And he will have an arc that leads him to realise that. With lots of angst along the way. And when I say ‘lots of angst’, what I really mean is; ‘there’s a damn fucking reason I tagged this thing for torture and drug use’.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon had gathered everyone in his dorm’s basement, where there was a laptop, a microphone and some other equipment set up.

“Jon, what is this?” Jimmy K asked.

“That, my friend, is recording equipment.” Jon explained. “Stephen has the technical knowhow to implement something like this. So he’s setting it up. But the _real_ reason I called you in here was to see whether you were in.”

“You _know_ I am.” Jimmy K said. “I can’t _wait_ to rip into Donald Trump and Steve Doocy and Sean Hannity-“

“Yeah, you’ll get your shot.” Jon said.

“Well, you know I’m in.” Stephen said.

“Stephen.” Jon put his hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “Buddy. You’re my best friend. You’re in this whether you want to be or not.”

“Well that inspires confidence.” Stephen deadpanned.

Sam raised her hand. “I’m also in.”

“And you know, because she’s in, I’m in.” Came another voice, this one belonging to Jason Jones.

“Of course.” Stephen muttered.

“Jason.” Jon began. “It’s... good to have you on board.”

“Well, I’m on board if Andy’s allowed.” Conan said.

“Sure.” Jon shrugged.

“Then yeah. I’m in.” Conan said.

“We’re _both_ in.” Andy said.

The height difference was disconcerting. It wasn’t like Andy was that much shorter than Conan, it was only an inch or so, but it was more that Conan’s legs were so long it looked like he towered over _everybody_. The way Conan wore his hair didn’t help, either-it was all poufy at the top. Jon was sure his hairstyle had a name. He just wasn’t sure what it was.

“Yeah. Sure.” Jon said. “The more, the better. I mean, that are on _our_ side.”

Almost at that moment, Seth walked in, followed by Amy and Stefon. “Sorry we’re late.”

“That mean you’re in?” Jon asked.

“We’re _absolutely_ in.” Amy said.

“I mean, I’ll do _anything_ Seth Meyers is doing.” Stefon said, grabbing Seth’s bicep and rubbing it sensually. “I support him _fully_.”

“Stefon, you can... you can get off me now.” Seth said.

“I am _so_ going to take you to Whopper tonight.” Stefon said, leaning closer to Seth’s face. “Justin BiBer has gone all out on this club-it has _everything_ ; cheese plates, cassette tapes, giant pink glittery dildos, _covfefe_.”

“Please no.” Seth said, nervously glancing across at Stefon.

“Okay. I don’t know what the _hell_ is going on there.” Jon gestured to Seth and Stefon.

“I thought it was obvious.” Stephen said.

“Seth looks uncomfortable...”

“Trust me, he is.” Amy said. “But only because Stefon’s doing heroin.”

Jon’s eyes widened. He didn’t know how to react to that. Maybe he’d just have a quick word with Seth about it later. “Okay guys!” He called out to change the subject. “Who else is here doing the pirate radio thing?”

Several hands shot up and on Jon’s count, it was everyone in the room.

“Fallon, even you?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, I... I figured, why the hell not, you know?” Jimmy F shrugged.

“Great. Great.” Jon nodded. Now we need to figure out just what the fuck we’re doing.”

“Don’t you _know_ what we’re doing?” Jimmy F asked.

“Oh I _know_.” Jon replied. “I was just wondering about roles.”

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“Well, there’s...” Jon did a quick headcount. “There’s _thirteen_ of us here right now. The plan is to put on a show. Something to entertain and primarily inform the American public.

“He calls it The Daily Show.” Stephen said.

“Yes. I do.” Jon chuckled nervously. “Nothing sells ‘I’m not afraid of you’ better than nervous laughter, am I right?”

Jason raised his hand. “I’ll do it with you, Jon.” He said. “I know people. I might be able to score some secret interviews.”

“Holy shit, Jason, really?!”

“Then I guess I’m in too. But I want my own show.” Sam said. “Like your show. But with a female perspective. Because the female perspective is important.”

“Are you just copying me?” Jon asked.

“Yes.” Sam admitted with a nod of her head.

“Okay.” Jon inhaled deeply. “Who _else_ wants their own show?”

And just like that, everyone’s hands shot up again.

Jon simply groaned.

* * *

“Okay.” Jon said. He was sitting down in a swivel chair in the basement. Everyone else was sitting on the floor, except Stephen, who was sitting on the table. “We’ve established that the more people who have a show, the more likely we are to be caught.”

“I’m more than happy to double up and co-host with Conan.” Andy said.

“Yeah, me too.” Conan said. “But with Andy.”

Jon ran his hand down his face in exasperation “I couldn’t imagine _anything_ else.”

“I’ve already said I’m not doing it without him anyway.” Conan added.

“Okay. Conan and Andy. Stephen, Get that down.” Jon sighed.

Stephen picked up the notepad and a pen that was next to him and scribbled down on the notepad as Jon began speaking once again.

“John. Why don’t you tell everyone what you can offer.”

“Oh, I can’t-“

“I _wasn’t_ suggesting.”

John nodded. “Well... I can... I have seven anti-Donald Trump books, including Fire and Fury, Fake News, Creeping Fascism, and Trump’s First Year as well as others.”

Murmurs filled the room.

“Can I borrow them?” Stephen asked.

“No.” John said. “I have a lot of books and scientific studies though. You’re more than welcome to look through them back at my flat. I try and keep them hidden from those who would try to destroy it.”

“Wow. I just have _so_ much respect for you now.” Sam said.

Jon looked at his watch. “Oh shit. Alright. It’s getting a bit late now, we’ve been here for almost an hour. And you know that Executive Order about public gatherings for more than an hour.”

“It’s to try and squash the Resistance movement.” Jimmy K said.

“Damn right it is.” Jon said. “To cut a long story short, we’ll get past it by splitting up and sticking together. If that makes sense. Everyone pitch a show. I’ll pick the best ones. We’re going to meet up at a random time to discuss them.”

“If it’s random, how will we know when and where to meet?” Trevor asked.

“Good question. I’ll text you.” Jon said. “I’ll text you with the phrase ‘there’s a snake in my boot’-“

“Like in Toy Story!” Amy said excitedly.

“Yes. Like in Toy Story.” Jon confirmed. “And when you get the text, you come here. That’s literally the best thing I can think of right now. Considering the NSA will be monitoring our communications.”

“Maybe you just need eleven people to help you get rid of the snake.” Stephen said. “It could be a _python_ , right?”

Jon smirked. “Shut up, Stephen.” He checked his watch again. “Alright. Everyone out of the basement. Andy, Conan, Kimmel-you get out  _now_. The hour’s almost up.”

Everyone quickly grabbed their things and Conan, being the tallest, led the way out of Jon and Stephen’s basement. Jon and Stephen’s neighbours thought nothing of them-they knew the two were weird best friends anyway.

After Conan, Jimmy K and Andy left, everyone else did, but in stages to look less suspicious. Soon, everyone had left besides Seth; even Stephen had gone back up to the apartment.

“What’s up?” Seth asked, trying to sound casual.

“ _I_ should be saying that.” Jon said. “About your lanky twink friend, Stefon.”

“He’s on about a _million_ drugs, Jon. He parties in the _weirdest_ places.” Seth tried his best to explain. “I don’t know if it’s actually _real_ , or he’s making it up for _attention_ or a _laugh_ or even if he _thinks_ it’s all real, but it _isn’t_ because he takes _so many_ hallucinogens-“

“Can he be trusted?” Jon asked in a low voice, interrupting Seth.

“Wha-oh yeah. He can.” Seth nodded. He also lowered his voice. “ _Totally_ be trusted. I mean, everything he does is against the law in _some_ way or other. He’s gay, he goes clubbing, takes... all kinds of illegal drugs, drinks underage-“ He stopped abruptly. “I mean, as illegal and dangerous as this is for _us_ , I doubt Stefon’s actually worried about it at all.”

Jon made a face, almost as if he couldn’t make up his mind about something. And Seth wondered what that something was.

“Alright. Get him clean. _Then_ he can do this.” Jon said.

“Jon-“

“You’d better leave now. Before the warden catches you.” Jon said. “You _don’t_ want to have to explain yourself to the warden.”

“Right. Yes.” Seth nodded.

“I’ll text you soon.” Jon said out loud, knowing that line was fairly innocuous.

“Bye.” Was all Seth could say.

* * *

Jon walked into his dorm room, wearing that same confused expression. Stephen was sitting on the couch, a bag of microwave popcorn sitting between his thighs. The entire room smelled of microwave popcorn, not that Jon really objected. 

“Hey, you’re missing this. Donald Trump’s making another mandatory address about Syria-“ Stephen stopped. He recognised that expression on his friend’s face. “Alright. What’s got to you _now_?” He asked.

“I can’t tell if Seth is in love with Stefon or not.” Jon said, taking the seat on the couch next to his best friend and roommate.

“Oh that’s an easy one.” Stephen popped a piece of popcorn in his mouth. “He is. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy Kimmel not being able to wait to rip into Sean Hannity is a reference to their recent feud. Yes, Jimmy Kimmel has done some awful things in the past, but he seems to have changed, and Sean Hannity hasn’t. Also, Kimmel’s never been accused of any kind of sexual misconduct, while Hannity has.  
> Conan has like a pompadour hairstyle. It’s funny because when I wash my hair and let it dry naturally, my fringe (bangs to you Yankees) looks like a brown Conan O’Brian hairstyle. I can’t comb it out, it goes away on its own. Just thought I’d share that hilarious tidbit.   
> You don’t want to know where the ‘giant pink glittery dildo’ bit came from. Really. You don’t. Also; Ha ha ha Covfefe.  
> The Daily Show is the first hints of what’s to come. And Samantha wanting her own show like Jon’s...  
> All the books John Oliver has are those I’ve read.  
> Fascists like to go after books and libraries first. Education is power. And John’s held onto some of that education, so he has some power. Everyone has power and agency here. Just in different ways.  
> The ‘Executive Order about public gatherings’... that is inspired by Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix’s Educational Decree Number Twenty Four.


	4. Chapter 4

Days passed and everyone kept going to their classes-the worst easily being their mandatory Trump modules. And of those modules, Trump Business Studies. It was all-to borrow a term from Dictator Trump-‘fake news’. Trump was much less successful than he liked to make out, and even ran six businesses into the ground-five of them, casinos.

John may have been too young to remember at twenty, but he knew this from reading his books. And he loved reading. Books offered him a freedom that he just couldn’t get anywhere else. Except the mandatory reading for the mandatory Trump modules, which was all books Trump wrote.

Really though, the man wanted a military parade, how did the Americans _not_ see this kind of thing happening? Not even Bush Jr asked for a parade! Probably... John was born well after 9/11 in 2003, so he didn’t exactly remember the Bush years. But he was like, maybe, _ninety percent_ sure about that.

John was finding himself fighting to stay awake as the professor droned on and on in such a boring, flat, emotionless voice. But he couldn’t fall asleep. Not again. The last time he had, there’d been serious consequences.

“Hey. Psst.”

John looked at the black girl to his left. “Yeah?”

“Do you have the answer to question six?” She asked. “I zoned out.”

“So did I.” John whispered back. “I didn’t know there was supposed to be a test-“

“Oliver! Williams!” The professor shouted from the front. “Do I have to report you to the Dean?”

“Uh no, Professor.” The girl said, almost confidently. “We-we were just... praising our Glorious President’s foreign policy in Syria.”

John nodded quickly. “Yes. She was just telling me more about it, since I’m British-“

“Well _do_ pay attention to my lecture. Then you’d learn _more_. Both of you.”

“Yes, I... I will do.” John said.

“Yes Professor.” The girl said.

The professor went back to droning on about Trump and John rolled his eyes.

The girl nudged John. “I’m Jess, by the way.”

“John.” He said.

* * *

Life in Guantanamo Bay was harder than Shep had ever imagined. He had to work all day farming sugar cane with no breaks, except for torture, and in his cramped cell at night, they would blast the I Love You song from Barney. He’d barely been there _three weeks_ and he was _already_ ready to crack. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Rachel Maddow, he would have.

Rachel was there for the same reason he was; telling the truth. Also, Shep supposed it didn’t help much that they were also both gay. But she had some good friends including Anderson Cooper, who was also gay. Maybe it was a theme. But like Shep and Rachel, Anderson was _also_ there for telling the truth. And Shep remembered back in 2018, when the whole ‘the president had sex with a porn star and paid her to keep quiet’ thing came out, Anderson had interviewed her about it. The porn star. Stormy Daniels. So Anderson being there was, more likely than not, a personal grudge.

Still, they looked after the younger man to the best of their ability. In just three weeks of being locked up, Shep had aged horribly. He didn’t look twenty-one any more. He looked closer to forty, thanks to a combination of exhaustion due to lack of sleep and physical labour, lack of food and water, poor hygiene and anxiety of when he would be next tortured or executed. Nobody escaped Guantanamo Bay. Not any more. But it didn’t stop people from trying.

The forced labour. It wasn’t like it was for any point, besides tiring people out. Or maybe it was, Shep just didn’t know because he wasn’t quite in control of his faculties any more.  
And he didn’t regret getting on Donald Trump’s bad side. He would do it all over again, if he needed to. Someone out there had to tell the truth. Tell people what was really happening. Just like someone had to expose this.

“You won’t do it, kid.” Anderson said. “You won’t escape.”

“I’m not talking about escaping to the _ocean_ , I’m talking about escaping to _Cuba_.” Shep said in his southern drawl.

“Better people than you have tried.” Anderson said. “Wolf Blitzer, Christiane Amanpour, John King-“

“And they’re all old as the dirt itself.” Shep said. “I’m twenty-one. I’m _young_.”

“Meg Kelly was younger than them too.” Rachel said. She put her finger to her temple and imitated a gun shooting gesture.

Shep flinched. “But I’m younger than her-she was.”

“So am _I_ , Shep. I’m only in my forties.” Rachel almost put her hand on his shoulder, but thought better of it, considering they shouldn’t have even been talking according to the rules. “But this kind of thing just happens. Cuba’s trying to get this place shut down. But where would Trump send us then? Lone Star? Long Island? Mojave?”

“They’d send us somewhere they’d kill us.” Shep said. “Why’d you give up?”

“There’s no beating the Trump Regime.” Anderson said.

“But you  _can’t_ give up!” Shep argued. “I don’t _wanna_ give up-I-I gotta see my boyfriend again, I want my _goddamn_ cat back-“

“You won’t.” Rachel said. “You’re here until you die now.”

“That is giving up, Rachel.” Shep pointed out. ”Don’t you wanna _leave_?”

“Of _course_ I do-but Shep, you gotta understand that you just _can’t_ escape.” Rachel said in a hushed tone.

“Why not?” Shep asked.

Anderson sighed. “You’ll soon learn.”

“You can’t escape because nobody ever _has_.” Rachel said. “They’re all either _starved_ or _overworked_ or _executed_ either before they can or during their escape. Andy and I are looking out for you-“

“Y’all aren’t my mom and dad. Y’all are both gay.”

“You’re gay too.” Rachel pointed out. “And it’s our _duty_ to look after the baby gays.”

“I’m not a baby.” Shep said.

“You’re not, but-“ Rachel stopped abruptly as they were approached by two guards.

Rachel and Anderson could only watch in horror as Shep was dragged off kicking and screaming by the guards, presumably to be tortured for information for what would be the fifth time just this week. It was Wednesday.

“Cooper! Maddow! Back to work or that’ll be _you_!” Another guard yelled. “And _no talking_!”

* * *

“So you have an exotic accent.” Jess began. She and John were outside their lecture, in the quad. “Where are you from?”

“Uh... England.” John answered.

Jess rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I guessed.” She said. “I meant where about are you from. I’m from America-obviously-but _specifically_ , I’m from Los Angeles, born and raised. Came to New York for education. It’s weird being so far away from home.”

“Oh. Well, I’m from Birmingham. And I came here because my country is in massive debt and economic and political turmoil, thanks to some small minded xenophobic racists named Nigel, Michael and Boris.” John explained. “America was _literally_ a better option for me than staying in England.”

“Yikes.” Jess winced slightly. “I didn’t think there was anyone worse than _us_ , besides North Korea.”

“Well, there _is_.” John said.

“Is it weird for you, being so far from home, as well?” Jess asked.

“I’m going to say yes.” John said thoughtfully. “I miss my Mum and Dad. But honestly, I’m just so glad to be out of that, what Trump would call, ‘shithole country’.”

Jess chuckled. “Yeah, I remember him saying that.”

“So do I.” John said. “I was fifteen when he said it, I think.”

“Thirteen.” Jess said. “So you’re twenty, are you?”

“Yes. And you’re eighteen.” John said. “What are you doing in _my_ class then, if you’re eighteen?”

Jess snorted. “Everyone has to take it. It’s mandatory.”

“ _Very_ mandatory.” John nodded.

The A pause.

“Did you hear about that student journalist?” Jess asked. “Who was taken to Gitmo-“

“Shepard Smith.” John nodded. “I knew him personally. Great man. Big heart. Very funny, but extremely quick to anger. You wouldn’t ever want to cross him, but he was a great ally to have on your side. I miss him.”

“Oh. I-I’m so sorry.” Jess said earnestly. “I didn’t know you knew him.”

“To be fair, we only just met an hour ago.” John said.

“Still. I’m sorry. Nobody should have their friends taken away like that.”

“I remember this one time, he did a report in the school paper-it wasn’t long after he transferred from Mississippi actually. Anyway, he did a report in the paper about the brutality of Donald Trump’s police. Then he went on and listed cases of police brutality.” John said.

“What happened?” Jess asked.

“The police came storming here, looking for him. Jon hid him, but he had to lay low for a while. Correction, he _should_ have laid low for a while. He didn’t and continued to kick up a fuss and tell the truth and swear until the day he was taken.” John sighed. “And Shep’s boyfriend hasn’t been the same since.”

“Wait, the Gitmo guy is _gay_?” Jess asked.

“Sure.” John said. “Didn’t bother us any. I mean, in our weird little friend group, there’s all kinds of people; a flamboyantly gay guy, a bisexual, an asexual, a trans man, heterosexual life partners. It bothered _him_ though. He’s from somewhere in Mississippi that’s probably still racially segregated.”

“And what are you?” Jess asked.

John chuckled. “I would be the asexual. I have a girlfriend though-she’s very nice.”

“And how does that work?” Jess asked. “I always thought asexual people didn’t have boyfriends or girlfriends.”

John smiled. “ _That_ is a _personal_ question.” He said.

“I suppose it is.” Jess agreed. She took her phone from her jeans pocket. “I-I’d better be going to my next lecture. It’s a mandatory Trump one or else I’d cut out and keep talking to you.” She chuckled. “But anyway, it was nice talking to you, John Oliver. Hopefully we get the chance to talk again-maybe you could introduce me to your weird friends.”

“They’re more like _family_ to me at this point.” John said.

Jess nodded. “I would suppose they are. With you being so far from home.” She said. “Well... I’ll see you around.” She walked away and gave a small wave. 

John waved back. Distracted, he didn’t notice anyone creep up on him until he felt hands on his shoulders. He turned around defensively, only to realise that it was Stephen. 

“Don’t _do_ that, Colbert!” John snapped.

“So who’s your girl friend?” Stephen asked.

“Her name is Jessica Williams and she is _not_ my girlfriend.” 

“I meant who’s your _lady_ friend?”

“She’s only _eighteen_. And besides, I’m seeing Kate. There’s _nothing_ between me and Jess.” John insisted.

“I’m gonna take your word on that for now.” Stephen said.

The two started walking to their next lecture together; Trump and Foreign Policy.

“So how’s Jon?” John asked.

“Oh. You know. Busy getting high.” Stephen said. “He has soccer practice tonight though. He loves soccer, but just doesn’t get why everything has to be about praising Trump-“

“Whoa!” John exclaimed. “You _can’t_ say that in _public_!”

“Why not?” Stephen asked.

John gestured around them and at all the people who were staring their way. Criticising Donald Trump in public just wasn’t the done thing to do. At least, not out loud.

“Fair point.” Stephen conceded. “Let’s just get to the next lecture and try and get through the rest of the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I sad there would be more girls? Well, here’s Jessica Williams and Rachel Maddow. And also Anderson Cooper, but he’s not a girl. He’s a boy.  
> Shep willing to go to Gitmo all over again for telling the truth is in reference to what he said in a recent interview:  
> “To stop doing it would be bad because I think that there is a need for it and I know the degree to which we care about it and focus on it and we want it to be as perfect as it can be. And I wonder, if I stopped delivering the facts, what would go in its place in this place that is most watched, most listened, most viewed, most trusted? I don’t know. We’re not living normal lives,” he says. “We’re ingesting a lot more than I think is healthy.” Which means? “This isn’t going to just go away,” he says. “It’s going to get worse.”  
> Yes, Nigel, Michael and Boris are the three racists who got us into The British Withdrawal from the European Union-or ‘Brexit’ for short. Nigel Farage, Michael Gove and Boris Johnson, just in case you’d never heard their names before and wanted to Google them to see what vile people they are.   
> Shep Smith is apparently very nice. I don’t know about that, but I do know he has a very quick temper. That can be observed just by watching him on screen. Particularly his swear-y rant on torture. Yikes. I wouldn’t want to cross him. But he is also funny, if you see his rants about True Blood or Mitt Romney’s ‘Mom jeans’ or him accidentally calling his reporter the C word. He’s just a passionate guy, I think.   
> The whole thing on police brutality John mentioned, is a reference to Shep reading out a list of school shootings after Parkland. Which he really did do. https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/shepard-smith-florida-school-shooting-fox-news_us_5a861d25e4b05c2bcac93033  
> No, there will not be any romance between John Oliver and Jessica Williams, they are strictly platonic.


	5. Chapter 5

Seth opened the door to his and Stefon’s dorm. “Stefon?” He asked to no reply.

Stefon wasn’t home. Seth took a step inside the room and closed the door. He leaned against it and slid down, openly sobbing. He didn’t care about crying, he just didn’t want to do it in front of Stefon.

Alexi had dumped him, not half an hour earlier. They had been together for years. _Three_ years. And now she didn’t want to be with him any more. He hadn’t called his best friend Amy. He hadn’t called Jon. He hadn’t called his brother Josh. He hadn’t called anyone. And now he was wallowing alone, in his misery and shock.

Seth didn’t know how long it had been before he heard-and felt-a knock on the door. He hadn’t moved from that spot at all. 

“ _Seth Meyers, I know it’s **you** in there crying_.” Stefon’s voice.

Seth wiped his tears with the heels of his palms. 

“ _Unless I’m wrong and it’s a burglar crying because we don’t have any stuff besides poor people clothes._ ”

Seth tried to make himself look as if he hadn’t been crying. It didn’t work however. As soon as he opened the door Stefon took one look at him. 

“Seth Meyers, what’s wrong?” He asked.

Seth resisted the urge to answer ‘everything’ and instead said, “Nothing.”

Stefon tsked. “No, no, no. I know when something is wrong. And something is _definitely_ wrong with you.” He said. “It’s like that time I was out clubbing with-“

“I don’t want to hear it, Stefon.” Seth took a deep breath. “I _don’t_ want to hear it.”

“So what’s happened?” Stefon asked, this time more stern than before and shut the door after him.

Seth sighed. “Alexi...” He began. “Alexi left me.”

“That _bitch_!” Stefon exclaimed.

“Stefon!” Seth protested. 

“No. She’s a bitch. She left you in this state, Seth. You are sad and you have been crying-I can tell.” He added before Seth could say anything. “She _clearly_ has _no_ respect for your feelings.”

“And _you_ do?” Seth asked, taking a seat on his bed. 

“Uh, yeah.”

“Prove it.” Seth said. “Give up the drugs.”

“Nuh uh. Stefon ain’t gonna do that. I need my meth fix.”

“You’re an _addict_.” Seth said. “Stefon, it’s not _just_ Alexi, this is getting to me. Your drug problems. We live in a tiny dorm room and -“

Seth was interrupted by a Donald Trump speech coming from the TV.

“ _My fellow Americans, I am your glorious leader, President Donald J Trump. And I have important news about sanctions in North Korea-_ “

“For fucks-“ Seth cursed. “Stefon, please. I’m _begging_ you to listen. I don’t want you to come back from Twice or Slash all coked up one night and I wake up the next morning and you’re dead, having choked on your own vomit. I _couldn’t_ do that. You’re too important to me for that. _Please_.” He took Stefon’s hand in his. “Give up the meth. And more importantly, give up the heroin. For me.”

“Okay.” Stefon nodded. “For _you_ , Seth Meyers.”

Seth sighed in relief.

“Shall we talk about your problems with Alexi?” Stefon asked. “We could talk about it over some cocaine.” 

“ _Stefon_!” Seth snapped. “You said you were going to give it up!”

“No, I said I’d give up meth and heroin.”

“The other drugs were _implied_.” Seth put his head in his hands, his elbow resting on his knees. And he let out all his emotions once more. He didn’t care if Stefon saw this time. He truly had had enough. Life without Alexi was hard as it was (all four hours of it by now), but a potential life without _Stefon_ -that was something Seth didn’t want to have to think about. Then again, he hadn’t thought about life without Alexi until it happened...

Seth began to sob louder, his shoulders heaving. Why did the universe _hate_ him? Why did _Alexi_ hate him? They were supposed to move to Canada, get married and have kids together! She left him! It _wasn’t fair_!

“Seth?” Stefon asked. There was nothing in his voice, but pure concern. 

When Seth failed to respond, Stefon sat down next to him and put his arms around him. 

“I’ll give up the drugs. I promise.” He said.

“It’s not just _that_.” Seth said, between sobs. “I hate life. I hate _everything_. It’s _meaningless_ without Alexi.”

“It’s _not_ meaningless.” Stefon said, trying to sound soothing, but failing badly.

It didn’t help that he’d never had to comfort anyone else in his life. He’d always just repressed everything since his father died-he was twelve and hadn’t even had his Bar Mitzvah yet. It shouldn’t even have had an effect on him, he never actually knew the man after all. And yet, that was probably when the drug abuse and partying started. Before he even turned thirteen, how sad was that?

And now, here he was, holding around _Seth Meyers_ , who he was _madly_ in love with, because his girlfriend had left him. Stefon should feel on top of the world, because he could move in on Seth and yet... _why_ was he feeling so-so... _terrible_?

Seth was, by now, crying so hard that he was genuinely struggling to breathe. He tried to compose himself and turned to Stefon. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot and his face was red.

That was when it hit Stefon, Seth wasn’t just _miserable_. His whole world had just _ended_. 

“Stefon... I think I want to be alone right now.” Seth said. 

“I don’t think it would be right for me to leave you alone.” Stefon said.

He had all of his drugs in a shoebox under his bed. Seth knew where they were-what if he took them? Stefon wasn’t concerned about the loss of money, more that Seth hadn’t so much as taken a single toke of pot in his life. If Seth smoked some of Stefon’s crack, he might overdose and die. Especially if he took some poppers or meow meow or smack or oxy along with it. 

Stefon was _much_ more concerned about Seth’s welfare than he was about his drugs getting used. And with Seth in this condition, he was more likely to self medicate. And Seth wasn’t used to doing drugs like Stefon was. 

“Should I call Amy?” Stefon asked. He didn’t wholly like her, but he knew that she was Seth’s friend. And if he tried to kiss her, it was a risk he was willing to take. 

“No.” Seth said. “Stay.”

“But you just wanted me to-“

“Stay.” Seth repeated. 

Stefon nodded. “If that’s what you want, Seth Meyers. I’ll stay.” 

Seth leaned into Stefon and Stefon fought his urges to kiss Seth or... basically molest him. He was feeling too vulnerable. And he trusted Stefon. Stefon would just have to wait until Seth was feeling better before he would try to seduce him again. 

He just couldn’t stand seeing Seth that hurt.

“And please, Stefon...” Seth hiccuped. “No more drugs.” 

“Okay.” 

“I just-I _can’t_ _do this again_.” He sobbed. “I can’t.”

Looking at Seth, Stefon would have to agree with him. “Okay.” He said. “No more drugs. I promise.”

Seth turned into his skinny roommate’s chest and presumably spoiled his shirt with his tears. Not that he cared. He’d always hated that ugly Ed Hardy shirt anyway. 

Stefon didn’t care either. Seth was more important than some old shirt anyway. 

And that’s where they stayed for the rest of the afternoon; Seth crying into Stefon about his broken heart and lost love and Stefon hugging him, patting his back-trying his best to comfort him. 

Little did Seth know that his world would be changing yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So I’ve never actually been dumped before. I’ve known people who have been dumped. But I haven’t personally been dumped. So I really don’t know how it feels. Personally.  
> How easy will it be for Stefon to quit the drugs?  
> What in Seth’s life is going to change?  
> Wait and see.


	6. Chapter 6

It was eight days after the meeting in Jon and Stephen’s basement before Conan had the text. Complete with emojis.

**From: Bi The Way**

**There’s a snake in my boot.**

He nudged Andy, who was half sleeping on the other side of the couch. The two were watching Blade Runner, which was showing on one of the TV channels.

“Yeah?” Andy said, half asleep.

Conan simply showed him the text.

“Alright. Let’s go.” Andy stretched his arms out and yawned.

“You’ll get a text, right?” Conan asked.

“I don’t know. We _did_ say we would do it together.” Andy pointed out.

“Shit, we did.” Conan nodded. He put the TV off and stood up.

“You wanna go _now_?” Andy asked.

“Well, the rule was that when we got the text, we would go.” Conan said.

“Right. Yeah.” Andy nodded. “Sorry. Still... kinda half asleep there, you know?”

Conan quickly looked at his phone and then grabbed his coat, which had been draped over the chair. He also picked up Andy’s coat.

Andy stood up and yawned again, taking his coat from Conan.

“You ready?” Conan asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Andy confirmed as he put his coat on.

Conan opened the door and both of them were out of the apartment.

* * *

In his and Stephen’s basement, Jon was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And so he began pacing. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Calm down, Jon. He’ll be here, unless he’s been shanghaied by Somali pirates. But in the middle of New York City, I honestly doubt that could happen.” Stephen said.

“Well, there aren’t _just_ Somali pirates any more, Stephen.” Jon said. “Technically _we’re_ about to become pirates.”

“That’s true.” Stephen agreed. “But it’s for a good cause.”

John sighed and ran his hand though his hair. He was twenty-one years old and already had more grey in his hair than anyone else he knew- _combined_. And a thought came into his head, that maybe, _just maybe_ , he should lay off the weed.

Stephen nudged Jon with his elbow. “Jon.”

Jon looked up to see Conan and Andy coming down into their basement.

“Sorry we’re a bit late.” Conan said.

“Blade Runner was on.” Andy finished.

“Yeah, we were watching it too.” Stephen said. “I’m still surprised that Donald Trump allows Blade Runner to be shown.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Conan asked.

“I just wanted _you_. But since Andy’s here too, let’s here what shows you’re pitching.” Jon sat down in his office chair.

“Oh, we’re pitching _together_.” Conan said.

“Yeah, together. We tried it with just Conan.” Andy added. “Doesn’t work.”

“Right.” Jon nodded. “Right. Go on.”

Stephen pulled himself up on the table and sat down.

“Well, you know how Jay Leno did The Tonight Show?” Conan asked. “Well, we thought we’d do our own version.”

“ _Without_ the guests, obviously.” Andy said. “I mean, I’ll never understand it since Conan is... well, he’s _Conan_. But he can sneak out of the country-“

“You just have to know the right spots.” Conan pointed out. “Last year, I went to Cuba on vacation.”

“I remember that.” Stephen said. “We were all jealous.”

“But what if, instead of going on vacation, I could talk to people about life outside the US and what they think of us.” Conan said. “Everyone needs a partner. Andy would be mine. We would talk on air and bounce ideas, like impersonations-“

“And there would be a monologue.” Andy said. “We wouldn’t, like, leave the country all the time. We would get caught. So when we can, like, go to Mexico, Canada and the Caribbean, we would.”

“You guys can go to _Mexico_?” Jon asked.

Conan and Andy exchanged a glance.

“Oh yeah.” Andy said.

Conan nodded. “True. We can.”

“And what would you call your show?” Jon asked.

“The Tonight Show.” Conan and Andy said together.

“Since Jay Leno is, you know, in detention in Lone Star.” Conan added.

Jon turned to Stephen. “Stephen?” He asked, prompting him for response.

“Oh. Yeah.” Stephen cleared his throat. “Honestly, I’d listen to it.”

“We were thinking at maybe a half eleven time slot?” Conan suggested.

“I mean, it’d kind of _have_ to be in the evening or night, because of our lectures-some of them are mandatory and Trump related. Missing them would certainly ring alarm bells.” Jon agreed. “We’ll get back to you on the time slot.”

“Is _that_ it?” Conan asked.

“Yeah. You can go if you want.” Jon said.

“Wait.” Stephen slid down from the table. He crouched down and looked inside the box under the table, taking out a cup. “Here.” He handed it over to Andy-the cup was full of sugar.

“Sugar?” Andy raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, why sugar?” Jon asked.

“Evading suspicion. I mean, it’s not all that suspicious for someone to come in for five minutes to have a cup of sugar.” Stephen argued.

“Fair point.” Conan agreed. “C’mon. Let’s go, Andy.”

* * *

“ _Our Glorious President Trump has announced the capture of ‘comedian’ Andy Cohen_.” Steve Doocy read out on the TV. “ _Cohen is to be sentenced this afternoon, but sentencing is expected to be severe. He has plead ‘not guilty’. President Trump had this to say-_ “

“Well.” Seth cleared his throat awkwardly. “At least he _wasn’t_ specifically targeted for being Jewish.”

“Look at Trump.” Amy grunted. “That fucking head of his. Stupid hair. Stupid orange face.”

“Stupid white circles around his eyes.” Stefon added from his bed. “Bitch _clearly_ wears tanning goggles. It’s amazing he hasn’t got skin cancer yet.”

“Wow, Stefon, you’re catty today.” Amy noted.

“He’s... trying to give up drugs.” Seth said.

“Shouldn’t he be in _rehab_?” Amy asked.

Seth shook his head. “They’d just send him to Gitmo. Or Lone Star. He’s my friend and roommate, I’m not gonna let him be taken away.”

Amy peered over at Stefon. “He doesn’t look so good.”

“That would be the heroin withdrawal. Maybe the meth withdrawal. Or the-“ Seth briefly paused. “He takes a lot of drugs.”

Seth’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out to look at it.

**From: Soccer Freak**

**There’s a snake in my boot.**

With emojis included.

Seth stood up. “Look, I gotta go. I’ve just had the text from Jon and... I mean, I _would_ go with Stefon. But he’s having-can you stay with him please, Amy?”

“I don’t know how to deal with _this_.” Amy said, gesturing at Stefon.

“Just... Keep him warm and keep him hydrated.” Seth said. “Wipe away his sweat. If he pukes, just rub little circles on his back, he likes that. Ignore his comments if he shouts at you, that would be the irritability. Don’t let him near _any_ drugs. It’s been a week now and he’s still...” He sighed. “Like _this_. Amy, I’m _really_ worried about him.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to take him to rehab though?” Amy asked.

“And where would that be, Amy?” Seth asked. “I've already-it’s _not_ an option.”

“Yeah, but-“ Amy stopped and looked at Seth. “Look, how’re _you_ doing?”

“What do you mean?” Seth asked. “I’m busy with work and taking care of Stefon through his withdrawal and my own relationship with Alexi-“

“Except you’re broken up.” Amy said.

“What do you mean?” Seth asked accusingly. “We’re still going.”

“Seth, you don’t have to _pretend_ with me. I saw Alexi yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh_.” Amy squeezed Seth’s arm. “You _don’t_ have to do this alone.”

“I-I’m going to go and see Jon now.” Seth said. He opened the door and walked out, leaving Amy alone with Stefon.

“Not to be a pain or anything, Amy Poehler, but can you get me a water?” Stefon asked.

* * *

“Alright, kiss bang or kill.” Kimmel began. He and Fallon were sitting in Kimmel’s dorm room; Fallon on the bed and Kimmel on the floor.

“I’m _not_ going to like this, am I?” Fallon asked.

“Uh...” Kimmel smirked deviously. “It depends. So, kiss, bang kill; Orrin Hatch, uh-Rand Paul and... _Kellyanne Conway_!”

“No fair, Kimmel, they’re all guys!” Fallon said.

“Well, Kellyanne Conway isn’t a guy.” Kimmel pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’ve wanted to kill her since I first laid eyes on her.” Fallon said. “So it’s not fair that I have to kiss Orrin Hatch and fuck Rand Paul.”

Kimmel burst out laughing. “Dude, you just answered the question!”

“It’s not my fault Kellyanne Conway looks like a crack whore.” Fallon said. “I wouldn’t want to kiss or bang her.”

“I’m surprised her husband does to be honest.” Kimmel said.

“Oh man, I hope your dorm isn’t bugged.” Fallon said. “You could get in _real_ trouble for that.”

“ _Me_?” Kimmel asked, putting a hand on his chest. “No, I’m _not_ the one who called Kellyanne Conway a crack whore.”

Fallon winced. “Oh my god, _I_ did, didn’t I?”

“My dorm isn’t bugged.” Kimmel said. “I am who I am. I wouldn’t have lasted _two seconds_ here if my dorm had been bugged.”

“You mean Em-“ Kimmel lunged to Fallon and covered his mouth with his hand.

“No.” Kimmel said firmly. He shook his head. “Jimmy. No.”

Fallon licked Kimmel’s hand, causing Kimmel to pull his hand away and rub it on his jeans.

“That’s _gross_ , man.”

“Ever find it confusing that we’re both called Jimmy?” Fallon asked.

“Well, John and Jon both have the same name with a different spelling. John Oliver spells his like J-O-H-N.” Kimmel said “But Jon Stewart’s name is Jonathan. John Oliver’s name is literally just John.”

“Yeah, but they’re both just... Jon aren’t they?” Fallon said.

“I guess.” Kimmel said.

His phone vibrated on his desk, making a horrible buzzing sound. Kimmel glanced over to look at it. “Jeez, speak of the devil.” He said.

“What do you mean?” Fallon asked.

“Just had a text from Jon. Stewart, that is.” Kimmel said.

“Let me see.” Fallon said.

Kimmel picked his phone up and handed it to Fallon.

**From: Jonny S.  
**

**There’s a snake in my boot.**

“Is that what the text looks like?” Fallon asked. “So many emojis.”

“You haven’t had it yet?” Kimmel said.

“Well, _obviously_ not.” Fallon said. He handed the phone back to Kimmel. “What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna go.” Kimmel said. “To Jon’s place.”

“Good idea.” Fallon nodded. “I’m gonna... go back to my own place.”

“Which is next door.” Kimmel pointed out.

“Ever since Steve got sent to the Mojave Prison Camp for stealing some bread...” Fallon bit his lip.

“I know. It’s not fair.” Kimmel patted Fallon on the shoulder. “And I know I’m no Steve Higgins, but at least you got me, still.”

“Comforting words, Jimmy.” Fallon sighed.

“I try, Jimmy. I try.” Kimmel said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it’s like half a chapter, but I’m not going to get the rest done any time soon, so you might as well get this now.   
> They’re watching Blade Runner because I like Blade Runner. There is no hidden message there.  
> Yes, the 11:30 timeslot is a reference to something. But what could it be...?  
> Poor Andy Cohen. I actually liked him too.  
> Stefon is bang on with Trump’s tanning goggle lines. They freak my mother out.  
> The Kiss Bang Kill game comes from a game I had with a friend, where I was asked about Kellyanne Conway too. Then my friend laughed at my choice and called Kellyanne Conway a ‘crack whore’. I know she probably won’t be there until 2023, but it was too funny not to put in.  
> If you were wondering where Higgins was, that’s what happened to him. If you’re wondering where Guillermo is, he was deported for being Mexican and this is not in this story.  
> I’m also working on an AU from this AU in which it’s still 2023 and following the same group, only Trump isn’t the president, he was voted out after a single term. So things are, although bad, not as bad as imprisoning people for dissent. In it, the group hang out primarily because they’re all part of the same Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Jon is sick, Stephen is upset, Seth and Stefon have just started dating and Shep is spread thin covering the latest election.


End file.
